


pick your poison

by bunshima



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idfk what else to tag this, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunshima/pseuds/bunshima
Summary: Darkness engulfs him at once. A low hum drums in his ears, accompanied by the sound of his own blood pressing forth. As far as the eyes can reach, complete darkness. Iridescent muck sloshes around his feet with eager, as if attempting to digest the metal of his boots. In the off distance, Emiya catches sight of the far horizon, ichor and emptiness barely discernible from one another. And right there, at the end of what seems to be a sheer endless way ahead, there's light.It beckons, speaks in sweet tongues that only he may understand.(alternatively: kiri goes to nightmare town ft. surprise appearances)





	pick your poison

**Author's Note:**

> i return with another experiment of mine!!! theres not much to say other than that i lov shipping faves so this happened.
> 
> disclaimer: no proofreading, if u have a rly big problem with violence and unsettling shit reading this isnt a good idea, local old man suffers for his sins, uhhhh... gay

Darkness engulfs him at once. A low hum drums in his ears, accompanied by the sound of his own blood pressing forth. As far as the eyes can reach, complete darkness. Iridescent muck sloshes around his feet with eager, as if attempting to digest the metal of his boots. In the off distance, Emiya catches sight of the far horizon, ichor and emptiness barely discernible from one another. And right there, at the end of what seems to be a sheer endless way ahead,  _ there's light. _

 

_ It beckons, _ speaks in sweet tongues that only he may understand. 

 

It seems familiar; he's been here before, night after night. And every night, Emiya has one, simple goal. Without having to prompt anything, his legs carrying him as he wades through tar-black lands. The mud may only reach his ankles, but it sticks him to the ground as if it would try to keep him in place, robbing him of that beautiful light. His pace quickens and Emiya gets closer to what seems to be salvation in this void.  _ His _ void. The outlines of a figure within the light grow clearer with every additional step and pure excitement grips him. It's a young woman, clad in celestial robes, gold ornaments accentuating her flawless beauty further. Emiya doesn't know her, has never even seen her save for his dreams. However, he finds himself stunned by her divine appearance; no beliefs have suited him during his lifetime, but her light makes him think that she might be  _ an ancient goddess. _ He's so focused on what's before him that he barely notices that the ichor rises the closer he gets to reaching his destination. At this point, it goes up to his waist, numbs everything on its way up. It burns horribly,  _ akin to acid.  _

 

_ “Kiritsugu.”, she beckons.  _ How could she know his real name, the one thing he kept from his past existence? 

 

For a brief moment, Emiya considers giving up. His physical confines are more than ready to give in to the mucks sweet offer: death. But he knows. He's done this multiple times. He'll wake up when the ichor fills up his lungs. He's so close. Feet are able to reach the ground and yet he uses his arms to swim through the oily mass as if his life depends on it. Even submerged to the chest in tar, he doesn't give up. Emiya’s fortitude shall be rewarded. 

 

**“Irisviel-”** His tongue had developed a mind of its own- _ he doesn't know her name. _

 

It doesn't matter. Especially not when he's closing in on the edge of the horizon, his much sought light awaiting him. A few steps further and they're a mere six feet away from one another. Her red eyes may seem just about grotesque to most, but to him,  _ they make him feel secure. _ Feet carry him further and further, until he notices a crucial detail:  **the horizon ends here.** The black mud ends in a pitfall, over which the divine figure hovers, likely lying in wait for him to jump into his demise...  _ No, she would never. _ Emiya does not know her, but he trusts her as if he had known her for years. Iris wouldn’t lure him in. He startles at the feeling of losing solid ground beneath his soles and stumbles back as far as possible, but still close enough to admire his divine savior in awe. 

 

_ “You're here.” _ Iris smiles at him so sweetly that it manages to shake his iron resolve.

 

Slowly, she closes in on him. Solid black muck parts around her as she does so, as if repelling all evil. Emiya can’t believe his eyes; she's as pretty as the  _ moon, _ and as radiant and soothing as the afternoon sun. Words don't come to him anymore. All his coherent thoughts were banished into the ether along with his worries. Emiya feels…  _ at ease. _ Iris gets close, dainty fingers caressing his face, creating a strong contrast between light and dark. Her smile causes usually so stern features to soften. He feels whole, there's no longer a gaping hole at his middle. No more clots form in his throat. The divine being leans in, seems to study his face closely. Her lips brush over his. His breath hitches in his windpipe and as Iris kisses him so lovingly, little does he know that those dainty, pale hands are growing into ivory claws around his throat. 

 

When they part, Emiya looks at her and there's no more comfort. Her soothing smile has turned into a grimace, needle-like teeth bared, with eyes completely red like only the sockets are left. He has no time to react to this. With inhuman strength, Iris forces him into the ichor, head submerged. It burns as all hell in his eyes and mucosae as he opens his mouth to scream in terror. Hands manage to grip silky fabric, smeared black onto white. Iris’ claws remain tight around his neck and he tries to kick at her legs, anything to make her stop. Primal fear causes his movements to grow more frantic with every second that he’s stuck in this  _ hell. _ Acid eats at his insides as the muck fills his stomach. Something stings in his eyes and it might be tears beading into oily depths.

 

 _“Stay down, dear.”,_ Iris advises, her voice still so soothing and beautiful that it forces his muscles to stiffen. **He stops.** Emiya knows that this is the end, but the fact that he found his end at her hands feels… **right.** _“Yes, yes. Just like that.”_ , she encourages. Air is pressed out of his lungs in large bubbles, and replaced by ichor. His heartbeat drums in his ears as it struggles to keep him alive. His hands have settled upon her forearms, limp and lifeless. A last few tremors run through him and Iris seems to struggle with keeping him in place. But soon enough, _she needn’t worry any longer._

 

 _“This hurts me more than it hurts you.”_ The phrase leaves to assume that she would be sad, _or devastated even,_ but all Emiya can make out in her voice is childish glee. Ah, Iris is enjoying herself. _How cute._ Despite never having met or even seen during his lifetime, he feels happy _for her._ Emiya realized it by now; she’s helping him with this act, and **he supports it.** He loves her and **everything** she does without even knowing her name. Eventually, the claws tighten around his neck and blood mixes with the muck as they press into his flesh. His spine snaps at the insane pressure put on it by her petite hands. His breath comes to an immediate halt. He couldn’t have imagined his death to be like this, _not even in his wildest dreams._ **It’s perfect.**

 

_ “I love you, Kiritsugu.”  _ Iris whispers as she discards his limp body, lets it fall into the abyss, like a broken plaything.

 

_________

 

When he finally awakens, it's  **violent,** body bolting straight up and lungs heaving as if trying to free Emiya’s system of the caustic mud that isn't even there. A hand grips his throat as he wheezes and chokes; it feels like her hands are still there.  _ He can't breathe. _ Yet, Emiya tries to,  _ he really does, _ but all he can manage are hoarse sobs, barely enough to give him the oxygen he so desperately needs.  **_He's going to die._ ** Unsurprisingly, his loud keening wakes up the one beside him. 

 

Frantic fumbling follows and the bed creaks as the figure next to him sits up, hastily feeling around for the light switch. The first thing Emiya sees are a set of widened red eyes, filled with pure worry. His throat only tightens further and his irrational fears gain more momentum.  _ He'll suffocate at this rate. _ Little does he know that his  _ own _ hand is still at his throat, fingers digging deep into skin. Tears are blurring his vision and all Emiya can make out are those piercing red eyes; his head does the rest for him. 

 

_ It’s  _ **_her._ ** _ Iris is here. She’s finally come to take him away.  _ **_He won’t go down without a fight, though._ **

 

A hand takes hold of his wrist and his body has already gone into autopilot. Emiya grabs her by the throat and pins her on the mattress straddling her and putting his entire weight on her. His second hand soon follows his first and rests at Iris’ neck, without putting pressure on it (for now). Her frantic struggling only serves to anger him further. However, something catches Emiya’s attention in his murderous lust for revenge.

 

 _‘It’s me, it’s me!’,_ she cries in a voice **_way_** _too deep_ to belong to a woman. That’s when it all comes to him. His visions clears and instead of Irisviel, he’s staring into the face of Cu Chulainn, his… well, _roommate (to put it simply)_. An unsettling mix of relief and terror makes his skin crawl. His body refuses to budge and he can only stare at the one below him in absolute horror. **_What the fuck is he doing?_**

 

Mild coughing follows.  _ “Christ, _ I always forget you’re pretty strong for someone yer size-”

 

Cu is definitely handling this better than Emiya-  _ not that he can pay attention to that now. _ The initial shock sits deep and it takes gentle persuasion from Cu’s side so that his grip on his throat loosens. With great efforts, the one beneath him manages to writhe away, enough to sit up lean against the bed’s headboard. It’s quite obvious; this has happened before. If he wasn’t so beside himself, Emiya would’ve been able to fully appreciate the fact that Cu is so calm and patient with him-  _ it used to be different. _ One might say that Cu is equally lover  _ and  _ fighter, but to him, tension is easier to resolve in battle. Tears are wiped with his forearm as the other servant waits patiently without saying another word (which is quite the feat for Cu). Eventually, Emiya dares to lean forward, straight into his beloved’s (it’s been a few months by now and he still can’t get used to pet names) embrace, curling into him with his face buried at the crook of his neck. A few sniffles from Emiya’s side, and then he speaks, voice only a pathetic shadow of what it usually is,

 

_ “‘m sorry.”, _ he babbles, a harsh sob shaking him, “I didn’t mean to.” He could fucking vomit right about now; he’s disgusted by himself. The one person who takes pity on him gets a treatment like this, has to deal with his self-made sorrow, a burden he should carry himself,  _ and himself only. _

 

“Don’ sweat it.”, Cu replies with a soft sigh in his voice. A hand brushes over Emiya’s bare back, gently soothing him. It feels so good and yet it makes his skin crawl; **he doesn’t deserve this.** “Ya didn’t hurt me.” 

 

It takes him a while until he allows himself to sink further into Cu’s hug, silent tears running steady and wetting his shoulder. Breathing has become easier by now, although there’s an audible tremor with every single inhale. It’s hard to piece oneself together after a graphic nightmare like that, but he’s gotta make it work. Cu remains quiet, caressing him gently as he does his best not to push him with unnecessary words.  _ That is, until... _

 

“Oi, look at me.” Cu’s tone is soft and just  _ a bit  _ coaxing.  _ How can Emiya deny such a sweet query?  _ So he does what’s asked of him, although his bloodshot eyes and dark circles aren’t the prettiest sight to behold- _ not to mention the stress lines _ (he’s an acquired taste of man, to be very honest). Fingers carefully wipe away any leftover tears and brush his damp hair back to place a kiss on his forehead, before going back to cupping his cheeks with his palms. While looking at him, Cu finds himself poorly mimicking Emiya’s frown, which earns him furrowed brows and an even deeper scowl, “Aw,  _ c’mon.”, _ he whines as his thumbs have to push up the corners of Emiya’s mouth manually, “Gimme a smile.”

 

As much as he wants to be grumpy, he can’t help but give a subtle smile and a gruff scoff,  _ “Fuck off.” _

 

_ “See, _ that's more like it.”, Cu replies, fingers running through greyed hair, and Emiya gets a toothy grin in return for his performance. “An’ now get off me ‘cuz my legs are fallin’ asleep.” 

 

Instead of doing that, Emiya shifts onto his knees first, lifting his weight off the poor Lancer, though with a mild grumble, mind you  _ (he ain't even that heavy to begin with, jeez). _ Hands settle at Cu’s shoulders and he decides to press gentle kiss to his lips. It's only shallow and chaste, which is quite a feat on its own knowing Cu’s liking for all intimacy and shit self control. Once they part, he can only look at Emiya with bright red eyes wide, as if dazed by such a simple act.  _ It doesn't happen often that Emiya initiates stuff.  _

 

When he had already gotten off him and laid down on his back beside Cu, the Assassin gets an earful of  _ love struck cooing, _ “D’aww, ya kissed me.”  _ Every-fucking-time.  _ However, he's at a point where the mild teasing no longer bothers him; it's just how Cu is. 

 

“Don't get used to it.”, Emiya retorts, hands folded on his stomach, one leg angled to cover himself (no matter how long they’ve been together,  _ there’s still that mild pang of shame). _ It’s only now that he notices a certain, fine detail: **he’s fucking sore.** And in retrospect, lying down was a bad idea. It’s not incapacitating, but still **very** present and absolutely fucking annoying. Before he can wallow in self pity further, his trains of thought are cut off by cackling from the one at his side.

 

“God, what’s the sour face fo’?”, he questions as he lights a cigarette between his lips, before giving Emiya a mischievous grin while taking the first drag. 

 

**_“... take a guess.”_ ** The short answer is pressed forth between gritted teeth as he does his most to get comfortable.

 

“Ah, did ya finally bust a hip,  _ old man?”,  _ Cu snorts while holding out his pack of cigarettes to Emiya, who takes one without hesitating.

 

However, Cu’s question is left unanswered. Instead, he grunts at him while putting the cig between his lips as he finally lies down in a comfortable spot,  _ “Light it for me.” _

 

He would sit up, if only he could; he quite literally feels like he busted a hip (worth it, though). Without whining or nagging, Cu lights his cigarette for him and decides to put the ashtray down on Emiya’s chest for the convenience of both. Tapping some ash off his cig into said ashtray earns the Lancer a mildly threatening glance from Emiya, 

 

“If you get ash on me, I’ll get pissed.”

 

“Ain’t like you’re never  _ not _ pissed off.”

 

No huffing or grunting this time;  **he’s right.**

 

_________

 

In spite of their occasional bicker, they smoke together in relative peace. Emiya welcomes the silence, especially after that ordeal. It would take him a lot to admit it, but his…  _ lover _ (insert internal gagging here; he won’t ever get used to this) prevented his fears from gaining the upper hand over him. He has managed to sit up by now, legs tucked close to his chest. Cu’s on his second cigarette, Emiya only needed one. It’s silent between them, except for the soft humming of the ventilation. The quiet used to unsettle him deeply;  _ it’d mean he was alone with himself. _ Not even Maya could give him what he needed, even if she so desperately tried to do so, blinded by rose-tinted glasses. In the end, she made it worse. Not that he had ever told her that (he simply couldn’t).

 

A gentle nudge reminds him that he is no longer alone. Cu’s cheek rests against his shoulder. He doesn’t say a word for now, lets him know that he’s there for him through touch on its own. His heart sinks to his stomach. When will he be aware of the fact that he’s too good for him? Deep down, he wishes it’ll never happen. Cu takes a last drag from his cigarette, careful not to burn Emiya, before stubbing it in the ashtray between their feet. The atmosphere has changed; something feels… off,  _ but not in a bad way. _

 

“Lov’ ya.” It’s a small whisper against one of his countless scars.

 

“Are you trying to make me sentimental on purpose?” His response is immediate, both verbal and physical. Emiya’s voice shakes, but it's barely audible. There’s small tears stinging in his eyes yet again. If his sentimentality was his only goal, Cu had already succeeded by a long shot.

 

“... I’m not pullin’ yer leg, if ya mean that.” One can tell by his voice alone that he’s hurt, one way or another; Emiya doesn’t even need to look at him.

 

“N-no, I didn't m-  **fuck.”** Both palms find his face, covering it and rubbing away any pesky tears that had already managed to go past the corners of his eyes. Why is this shit so hard? Perhaps he's just not made for relationships, but he'd be damned if he told Cu-  _ especially right now. _ It's the last bit of necessary tact that he possesses.  _ “I'm fucking awful at this.” _ His words-  _ which aren't more than mumbling to begin with- _ are muffled by his own hands still.

 

Again, everything falls silent around them _.  _

 

No reaction. Emiya doesn’t dare to look at Cu.  _ It feels like he finally blew it.  _ He doesn't know why, but he has a hunch that he did. He’s going to leave and he’ll be alone all over again-  _ not that it matters, right? _ Servants aren’t supposed to reach this tier of relationship anyway. Perhaps the gentle treatment they receive from their master makes them soft, vulnerable to shit like this. It seems it’s for the best if they finally part ways; he isn’t making him happy. Cu always looks so exhausted around him and yet,  _ yet  _ he stays.  **Emiya doesn’t understand.**

 

Though, he should know better than to expect the Lancer to just leave because of something like this. Little does he know that he’s managed to charm the poor guy with his unlikeable ways- they’re both hopeless. A sigh causes Emiya to cringe when he hears it, but there’s no reason for even more panic (he’s still recovering from Iris; this is a lot for his battered old heart). Cu shifts beside him, seemingly puts away the ashtray between them judging by mild clattering, and carefully strokes his back with his flat palm, 

 

“I don’ mind. Ya kno’ that.” For once, his voice sounds heavy, as if laden with all sorrow in the world (perhaps the black grail is taking a toll on him; Emiya can actually  **feel** Irisviel’s presence still and it chases a shiver down his spine).  _ “... ’m sorry.” _

 

Eventually, Emiya  **has** to look at him, brows knit together in mild disbelief,  _ “What- _ what are you apologizing for?”

 

A shrug follows. “I’unno.”, Cu responds, hands gripping his ankles as he sits cross-legged and rocks in place ever so slightly; he's tense. “Jus’ seemed like I pushed ya.” In spite of his body language, he manages to give him a look that say more than words possibly could; clearly,  _ there’s hurt, _ but the majority of it is overshadowed by warmth and such pure affection that Emiya’s chest tightens so bittersweet at the sight of Cu’s expression. He’s head over heels. Assassin is rough,  _ calloused. _ Ripped at every single one of his jagged edges. But somehow, Cu never seemed to mind.  _ Idiot _ (quite a lovable one, though).

 

In the end, Emiya can no longer resist the urge to scoot close to his side, albeit with hesitation. With great care he manages to pry a hand off the servant’s ankles, so that he may hold it, intertwining their fingers. He might burn up at this rate, dark skin reddened at his shoulders and very noticeably at that. The side of his face is pressed flush against Cu’s shoulder, in an attempt to save face. THe sudden change in demeanor draws a chuckle from the other-  _ or does it? _

 

“Shit, I don’ remember keepin’ a goddamn cactus in my bed.” Emiya can feel the tension bleed off him-  _ and it’s all thanks to his stubble, apparently (he’s quite ticklish).  _

 

“Stop calling me that.” Cu gets a scoff in response, although for once there’s something playful behind a rough tone.

 

“Lemme correct myself:  _ a cactus with an attitude.” _ Ah, there’s finally that dumb grin that he loves so much. Emiya can’t see it but it’s noticeable in his voice. 

 

From here, the mood seems to be going uphill again;  **_whew, crisis avoided._ ** Of course, paranoia still sits in his neck, telling him that Iris will come and take him away or whispering that Cu will soon start seeing him as he sees himself- _ as a broken husk of a cruel and ruthless man. _ As much as his messy head tries to ruin his mood anew, the feeling of holding someone’s hand and having them squeeze his hand back manages to mend his battered nerves momentarily. It has become apparent by now; he can’t have constant happiness. However, if that’s the case, the temporary type will do too.

 

A loud yawn builds up in his throat. The idea of sleeping terrifies him, considering that he has reached the end of his journey.  _ What else is there to come? _ He sure as hell doesn’t want to find out, but at the same time it seems so tempting to give into sleep, especially now that his exhaustion finally caught up with him. He does his best to speak up,  _ he really does, _ but in the end all he can give Cu is a sleepy murmur, 

 

“Can we lie down?”

 

A kiss to his scalp and a free hand reaching over to ruffle his hair later, Cu replies, “Yah, sure. I’m gettin’ tired too.” A yawn from Cu’s side follows (and Emiya immediately feels the strong urge to yawn yet again). “Want me t’ get ya anythin’ though?”

 

“Water sounds good.” His throat is dry and his head kind of hurts from crying.  _ He’s a proper mess, _ truly a sight to behold. Emiya’s hair sticks up in multiple directions from tossing and turning as he ventured through his nightmare-ish dreamland (and from his lover having too much fun with his hair), eyes are reddened and have dark circles that make him look like he hasn’t slept in days, and last but not least,  _ he’s still sore  _ and covered in love bites and bruises _. _ He doesn’t remember dating a fucking leech.  _ Woe has a name and it’s Kiritsugu Emiya. _

 

What he didn’t consider is that Cu actually has to get up to get him a glass of water. It almost hurts when they part, leaving Emiya sitting upright in bed, looking as if he has no idea what to do without the Lancer. Unbeknownst to Cu, his lips curl into a barely noticeable pout.  _ Yeah, how dare he actually get up and leave him alone! _

 

Once Cu returns from the bathroom and hands him the glass, he downs it in one go and puts the empty glass onto the nightstand. The bed creaks softly as Emiya scoots over, giving the other more space. When he eventually gets to rest,  _ he savors it,  _ curls in on himself in a warm spot while Cu pulls the covers over both of them. The dimmed light is left on; Emiya prefers it that way after having those cursed nightmares of his.  _ Just in case he wakes up again. _

 

His eyes had already fallen shut after he's been downright incapable of keeping them open any longer. But that makes the sensation of having fingers gently comb through his hair even better. His greyed hair is brushed back and a low hum escapes him when a kiss is pressed to his forehead. Another kiss is placed on the bridge of his nose, then one on his cheek, after which Cu goes right for his lips. It's a chaste peck they share, followed by another and **another.** _He just can’t get enough of him, eh?_

 

“How am I supposed to sleep like this?”, Emiya mumbles, a soft chuckle welling up in his throat as Cu props himself up just to cover an exposed spot on his neck with more kisses.  _ He’s so gentle that it tickles. _ “You should sleep too.” As much as he enjoys this, he just caught a glimpse at the digital clock on the nightstand-  _ 4:37 in the morning. _

 

There’s a moment of careful consideration, but in the end, Cu gives a defeated sigh. “Yah, yer right.” 

 

Finally, he also settles in bed, putting an arm around him beneath the blankets. The both of them had to get a second bed from an abandoned room since one wasn’t enough for both; sometimes they would kick one another out of bed, Cu would occasionally sleep with all limbs away from him so that Emiya had to settle for resting at the foot of the bed, and rarely Emiya would push their beds apart again, in need of some space. Eyes flutter open, so that he gets a good look at that cute sleepy face before him. It’s quite rare that he gets to see him sleep; he just loves going to bed early and sleeping in until noon (not that his master is particularly fond of it but he doesn’t care about that; what will she do?  _ Get him out of bed by command spell?). _

 

“Night.”, Cu tells him as he pulls him close. 

 

It doesn’t take long for Emiya’s eyes to fall shut anew.

 

_________

 

Darkness engulfs him at once. Tired eyes bat open and gaze upon nothing. Truly, **a déjà vu;** _he’s back._ The mud sloshes around his feet near eagerly, attempting to move his feet forward with what little might it has. In the off distance, Emiya sees light, radiant and cleansing, as if lying in wait to mend his broken self. The urge to return to Irisviel’s deadly embrace is ever so present. The woman who loves him so, in the most destructive sense. His latest experience left him confused, terrified and yet disgustingly wanting. She seeks to give him what he wants: salvation. An end to his pitiful existence is what Iris provides, out of love nonetheless.

 

_ “Kiritsugu.” _ He hears Irisviel’s wistful whisper clear, as if right next to his ear, despite being out of reach.

 

A warm sensation on the shell of his ear chases a shiver down his spine.  _ Iris is quite literally breathing down his neck. _ But when he turns, there’s nothing but darkness. His body comes to a halt, frozen he stands ankle deep in the ichor. Breath shallows and he tries to make out any other sounds next to the sloshing of muck and a dull hum that puts pressure on his eardrums.

 

Fists clench at his sides and Emiya makes a bold decision. Instead of hurrying to the light like a lost man in search of purpose, he turns around, walks deeper into darkness and away from his precious saviour. Steps fall heavy on unsteady ground. It’s harder than he could’ve imagined. His head screams at him to turn around, to return to Iris. Every single one of his muscles aches and it only gets worse with every step away from the light.

 

_ “Don’t leave me!”,  _ Iris cries after him, her voice a mere echo. _ He doesn’t listen. _

 

The farther away he gets, the colder the void surrounding him ends up being. It’s cold, so unbelievably cold. If he stopped moving, the mud around his feet would likely freeze. It didn’t rise like last time. Perhaps this has been the right direction all along. His footsteps echo eerily throughout the nothing.  _ It threatens to drive him insane.  _ Eyes wide open, fixated on the vast void before him. In the off distance, there’s a ghostly howl; it feels like as if Iris had turned into an unholy beast from her undying desire for her Kiritsugu  _ (how cruel of him to deny her something as simple as that). _ Together with the pitter-patter of his steps, the pressure in his ears and unnerving emptiness lying before him, it could be considered the perfect way to torture him. With every additional move, Emiya can feel himself become undone, as if the muck started digesting him at his ankles. His head is empty, yet it seems to register all stimuli around him, etching them into his brain.

 

He stops in his tracks abruptly. In the everlasting darkness, a figure had appeared, enshrouded by the void.  _ A man. _ He’s a fair stretch away from him, but said figure looms near threateningly before him, almost as if to stop him from venturing on. Emiya’s body wants to keep going, but this time his broken head forces him to stay in place. Whoever he are, he seems familiar. The more he stares, the faster his heart beats. He fills him with primal, unabashed fear. His heartbeat joins the pressure in his ears. It doesn’t help that he’s truly built like  _ a predator, _ large and combat steeled, judging by his size. The figure takes a slow step forward, and Emiya thinks he can see a golden trinket shine at his middle. 

 

_ A cross? _

 

**_“Kiritsugu Emiya.”,_ ** he speaks with a stern voice, deep and bassy, and a harsh tone to match. He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of teeth bared at him in ecstasy. He has been waiting. For Emiya. Just that is enough to instill fright that would send three people into a heart attack.

 

No movement;  _ he’s just about captivated. _ Emiya stares for too long. Sharp pain burns in his cheek. Warmth spreads over the side of his face. Behind him, he can hear the distant clattering of metal. A single black key was thrown his way with terrifying precision, having grazed his face.  **A warning shot.** He needn’t think twice. Fear drives him to turn at once, running as fast as his worn limbs may carry him. His steps have an echo. The light returns, is within reach again. Emiya wheezes, can’t help but smile at the prospect of being  **_saved_ ** by Iris yet again. Throbbing pain shoots through one ankle, then the other. He falls, legs unable to carry his weight. The impact just about crushes him, muck searing in his eyes. 

 

Emiya grunts loudly, arms incapable of pushing him up, leaving him with his face down in ichor. The pain he feels when it crawls into the wound on his face drives tears into his eyes. Sinews have been severed. He’s done for. Teeth grit as he does his best to crawl with his last bit of strength. A throaty chuckle from above causes him to flinch.  _ This is it, perhaps.  _ He’s going to die,  _ and not by Iris’ hand. _ His hand reaches forward, reaches out for Irisviel in the off distance, but it’s no use. A blade pierces through the back of his hand and he cries out in pain as the black key is twisted. Joyful humming sends a shudder down his back. 

 

A fistful of his hair is grabbed and his head is tilted back by force, so much that it might just snap his spine in half (yet again). He gazes into deep brown eyes, as empty as his own. Teeth are bared in a grimace at him. By this point he’s so afraid, numbed by adrenaline, that this might as well happen. He has nothing to lose. He never had in the first place.

 

**_“I finally have you.”_ **

 

_________

 

His eyes open wide with a gasp. Cu is still sleeping soundly next to him, even snoring just the slightest bit. He shakes in his spot, trying to shallow his breathing so his lover doesn’t wake up- he already had to deal with his sorry ass earlier. Whatever was about to come in that hellscape of a nightmare, Emiya has never been this glad to wake up in a cold sweat. 

 

_ At least he isn’t sleeping alone. _

**Author's Note:**

> hi thanks for checking in im still a piece of garbage


End file.
